


Loyal (translated into Shakespearean with shmoop.com)

by xylarias



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Heavy Angst, M/M, but it's in Shakespearean, funny but also sad given the so called plot, the use of the expression that gent is over the top, this is the same exact fic I published last year (?)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:54:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24474628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xylarias/pseuds/xylarias
Summary: Aralas angst in Shakespearean English
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel/Legolas Greenleaf
Kudos: 6





	Loyal (translated into Shakespearean with shmoop.com)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rk7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rk7/gifts).



> I recently discovered shmoop.com where you can translate stuff into Shakespearean English and I decided to translate one of my fics...
> 
> Loyal but in Shakespearean

This wasn’t supposed to befall.

Not the present day.

Not ever.

But t didst, and Aragorn wast devastated. Heartbroken, to beest exact.

That gent threaded his digits through the once silky, blond hair, which wast now filthy and hath covered in dirt and blood. His eyes wast burning, and his heart hath felt like t wasn’t thither at all. As if 't be true t hadst fallen into a deep, dark pit which nev'r ended. His throat wast sore. that gent hath tried to sayeth something, anything, but the words wast stuck in his throat and that gent couldn’t receiveth those folk out.

That gent hath opened and closed his that from which we speak a few times, but nothing cameth out. That gent couldn’t holp but stare at the elf’s fair yet bruised visage. His eyes wast blank, his that from which we speak slightly ope as if 't be true he’d hath tried to sayeth something ere that gent hath kicked the bucket. And maybe that gent hadst hath tried to sayeth something. Calleth for holp, maybe? Calleth for Aragorn?

Aragorn squeezed his eyes shut. That gent could’ve saved that gent. That gent could’ve saved Legolas. That gent could’ve fought by his side long enough to protect that gent. That gent hadn’t bethought that the elf hadst needed jutty. That gent wast, after all, talented in combat. That gent hadst his bow and twin daggers – that should’ve been enough, right? The stout feeling of guilt filled Aragorn. Every inch of his body. Guilt so overwhelming that that gent hath felt as though that gent couldn’t standeth up coequal if 't be true he’d hath tried.

That gent winced, still holding Legolas in his arms. Tears started streaming down his visage, rolling down his cheeks and hanging from his chin for a while ere finally dropping on the elf’s green outfit. His elf’s.

Aragorn’s long, brown hair blocked his side view, and that gent couldn’t see what wast happening. Not that t mattered, concluded, be it – not now at which hour his lover wast dead. Because of that gent. That gent could’ve ceased t.

Tears glistened in his eyes, making his vision blurry. That gent caressed Legolas’s cheek, mumbling incoherently. Or, rather, a language that would sound incoherent unless thee hath understood t. Aragorn spake so quietly that t could barely beest hath heard. Coequal that gent himself couldn’t very much heareth t.

“Legolas, meleth nîn. ”

He hath continued saying something – something so personal and incony that t hath felt like a single chirp from a tiny bird could breaketh t. Tears hath continued to falleth on the green fabric. Aragorn sniffed a few times, wiping his eyes. That gent could feeleth Legolas’s corpse turning colder as that gent cupped the elf’s cheek in his right handeth. That gent could distantly heareth the sounds of battle from around that gent, and that gent kneweth that that gent wast in a risky spot, but that gent couldn’t care less.

Nothing mattered anymore.

Or didst t?

No, not very much, Aragorn hath decided.

Not anymore.

The love of his life wast dead, and if 't be true that gent didn’t moveth, that gent would beest too.

But that gent didn’t care. T didn’t matter.

He hugged the dead body of the blond elf tightly, as if 't be true that gent could protect that gent. T. His corpse.

His visage wast buried in the green fabric. That gent could kicketh the bucket. That gent would kicketh the bucket. But that’s what that gent wanted, wasn’t t? To beest with Legolas, no matter what. He’d loved that gent ever since they’d hath met, and that gent wasn’t going to cease now. He’d love that gent for all eternity. Coequal in the afterlife, if 't be true that wast to exist. And, despite doubting whether that gent actually wanted to kicketh the bucket or not, his death wish wast soon fulfilled.

That gent wast hath killed by a dagger in the back. That gent didn’t very much care, though. That gent hadn’t coequal bothered to tryeth to square back.

Maybe that gent didn’t kicketh the bucket a hero, but at least that gent hath kicked the bucket holding the love of his life.

_Loyal till the end._


End file.
